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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25585039">Pinch Yourself</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/avius/pseuds/kunseggs'>kunseggs (avius)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Don’t Look At Me Like That It’s Mainly Build-up, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Freckles, Frottage, Getting Together, Idols, M/M, Making Out, Obnoxious Flirting on Haechan’s Part, Yanghyuck Superior, just bros being dudes, nct 00 line</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:20:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25585039</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/avius/pseuds/kunseggs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yangyang firmly believes those who think Ten is a perpetual flirter, clearly have never been in close proximity to Lee Donghyuck</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Liu Yang Yang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>388</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pinch Yourself</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>dedicated to lily, and yangyang’s bad alive teaser photo.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is commonly said that Ten flirts with everyone. Yangyang disagrees. Sure, his gege can be overly affectionate, sliding his arms around shoulders and throwing around the epithet “baby” more than considered socially acceptable for a bunch of young men, but that’s just Ten awkwardly attempting to display his suppressed paternal instincts without damaging his aloof façade. Yangyang has (unfortunately) witnessed Ten’s authentic attempts at flirting, usually an unnecessarily personal jab to prove the intimacy of his understandings or a rare sincere compliment followed by a desperate fleeing to the nearest exit. Ten-ge’s so-called “continual flirting” is nothing — especially in comparison to the tingling touches and warm weight currently against his side belonging to <em> the </em> Haechan <em> . (Like the, SM’s prodigy, golden maknae, blazing ball of blinding light, Lee Donghyuck, Haechan.)  </em></p><p> </p><p>The jut of his hip bone presses into Yangyang through his thin soccer shorts, his legs (that seemingly go on for miles and miles of perfect toned muscle and grace) pulled half heartedly atop Yangyang’s own. Haechan’s arms are wound around his back, palms outstretched and flat against his shoulder blades as if attempting to consume as much surface area as possible. What’s worst of all is that even as Haechan slowly stakes his claim over the sovereignty of Yangyang’s body, he is merely cracking jokes and laughing along with the conversation happening around the pair. Yangyang’s sanity is lost to the wind and the current discussion of the latest Overwatch patch notes feels millions of miles away, and yet Haechan seems to merely engage further into the discussion the longer he causes Yangyang to lose his breath. </p><p> </p><p>Honestly, Renjun is to blame. Renjun with his dumb grinning face and welcoming eyes whenever Kun would treat his collection of homesick kids to hotpot before his debut was even announced. Renjun, seemingly attached to having a fellow Chinese companion, had recently begun inviting him along to some movie nights and dinners in the Dream dorm. This shouldn’t be a problem, as Jeno and Jaemin and Jisung all seem to take to his cheeky tales of pranks on members and gaming interests, and don’t twist their expressions with impatience whenever his Korean comes up lacking. It <em> isn’t </em> a problem, until one night Haechan drops himself into the couch beside Yangyang and attaches himself with a hushed greeting of ‘ <em> it’s so nice to have you here.’ </em></p><p> </p><p>Haechan seems to finish his point in discussion before sliding a thin wrist across Yangyang’s front, to hook over the side of his stomach. Yangyang wants to persist in his politeness, not wanting to seem ungrateful for the rapidity of their welcoming or, <em> worse </em>, against the idea of men touching him, but he is a young man after all, and some sorts of close touches cannot be simply ignored by the entirety of his body. He clears his throat — unsure of when it got so dry and hoarse — and turns to see Haechan’s face already close to his own. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, Haechan-sunbaenim, I just, could you perhaps move over just a little?” His voice crumbles only slightly, but he takes it as a win. </p><p> </p><p>Haechan’s eyes are wide and hold a glint of something predatory. “You don’t need to be so formal with me; we are same aged friends after all, are we not?” </p><p> </p><p>Yangyang flushes more at his words than the sly finger that dips under the collar of his shirt to fiddle with the tag there. Renjun likes to throw friendly taunts around about Haechan when they meet up alone, more often than not about Haechan apparently not bothering with befriending trainees until the rumours of their debut start to circulate the company building, and Renjun’s deadpan was good enough to not leave Yangyang convinced it was fully a joke. </p><p> </p><p>“You can call me Donghyuck, is that okay, Yangyang?” Haechan says, less of a taunting whisper and more of an assertive statement, causing the rest of the boys to suddenly tune into the interaction. Renjun snorts. </p><p> </p><p>“Yangyang’s only younger by, like, half a year, <em> and yet </em>he acts like more of a hyung than you do, Hyuck; I think he should be the one to set those terms.” The glint in Renjun’s eye is far too all knowing as it dips from the hand on his nape to the knees bumping against his. It feels like half of Yangyang’s entire personality evaporated under the warmth of Haechan’s intense attention, leaving very little other than the ‘young’ and ‘fast-thinking’ and ‘gay’ bits left.</p><p> </p><p>Spurred on by Renjun’s increasingly appalled stare, he pipes up, “Just cause <em> you </em>think I’m all cool and mature doesn’t mean he’s not my sunbae, Renjun. You should know that’s not how Korean works.” Jaemin blurts out a little ‘ooh’ as if egging on the teasing-Renjun-train, but Renjun just laughs. </p><p> </p><p>Probably because Haechan seems to raise an eyebrow, “I think wanting to speak informally is more a display of how cool I think you are, isn’t it?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeno snorts and mutters what sounds like “Since when?” but a look from Haechan quickly shuts that down. There’s still a lingering understanding that Yangyang is very much an outsider, not only to the language but the friendship history too, but as someone who has lived and moved around, it’s more comforting than one might expect. He almost revels in the challenge, having the desire and confidence to attempt to understand and then conquer the unknown -- a drive not unfamiliar in trainees and possibly the reason why Ten had very quickly been endeared by him.</p><p> </p><p>Yangyang, increasingly able to find his breath now his focus is split evenly between the vibrations in Haechan’s chest tickling his arm, and the actual words they form, untangles his arm from Haechan’s to ruffle the other’s hair. “Hmm, sure thing, Donghyuck-ie~,” he says, no honorifics, and his nerves feel as bare as his tongue.</p><p> </p><p>The boy’s bright eyes widen a fraction, and then, as if reading the action as a worthy competitor’s resistance, narrow again with an indulgent greed. Yangyang wants to drink it in, bask in it, sit and steep in the power of his gaze like tea. (Yangyang also can’t help but want to drink in his tongue, his skin, his thrumming heartbeat, but those desires lay dormant, able to read the room.) Renjun still hasn’t picked up from wherever he left off in the conversation they were having, which feels significant, but if Yangyang attempts to redirect their attention from whatever <em> that </em>exchange was meant to signify, it’ll be even more suspicious. (Sicheng-ge would be laughing his ass off at him right now.)</p><p> </p><p>Renjun does speak up, “<em> Can’t wait to unpack all of whatever that was </em> .” It takes a long second to realise he is the only one here that can understand Mandarin, which that snide comment clearly was said in, but it’s long enough for Renjun to pick up the previous conversation by asking Jeno about the movie he and Chenle went to see. It’s almost the same sort of just-short-of-whiplash as hearing Cantonese line switch in and out of their native tongue in the middle of group discussions. Yangyang hates to do it, but he almost thanks Renjun for his selfishness over whatever gossip he can get his hands on. Yangyang thinks he’s in the clear until he feels Haechan’s -- <em> Donghyuck’s </em>-- blunt fingernails drag over the short black roots at the nape of his neck. </p><p> </p><p>The body beside him shifts impossibly closer, breath warm and damp on the shell of his ear, “I think we’re gunna be good friends.”</p><p> </p><p>And they do gradually get closer, just as predicted. Donghyuck is often off being NCT 127’s Haechan, and NCT Dream’s Haechan, and NCT U’s Haechan, in the same way that Yangyang is busy being WayV’s Yangyang and also thorn in his geges’ sides and wallets Liu YangYang. It’s a compromise whenever they manage to meet, usually sleep on Donghyuck’s part, and extra practice hours on Yangyang’s; the 00 line of NCT Dream seem to take to his mischief and energy well and Renjun doesn’t stop dragging him along to things (or teasing him in Mandarin whenever Donghyuck gets close). The first time they meet up alone, it’s long after they’ve become actually comfortable with each other, and it’s also mainly by accident. </p><p> </p><p>That day, Kun had messaged Yangyang to inform him that Ten had offered to treat Yangyang to lunch, a rare and thus very important occasion, and so in order to make sure he didn’t miss it, Yangyang had signed out of his solo practice room booking earlier than he probably should have to head up to the main room where SuperM (and thus Ten) were practicing. The nature of the group meant any alignment of schedules were prioritised, so Ten and Xuxi had a day of SuperM practice in the morning and WayV group dance practice in the evening. Hopefully, if Yangyang got there when the Exo-sunbaenims had to leave for their schedule, he could encourage the pair to actually eat something rather than practicing all through lunch. Yangyang had already been dreaming of free tonkatsu when the elevator doors opened two floors too soon. </p><p> </p><p>“Yangyang!” Donghyuck smiled, stepping in alongside him. He went to press the floor buttons but turned when he saw where Yangyang was headed. “Are you also on babysitting duty?”</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck leans his hands behind him against the handrail as the elevator moves again. He is the picture of boyish charm, cheeky and confident and so <em> warm, </em>that Yangyang suddenly feels the urge to ask for an autograph. </p><p> </p><p>But they’re already halfway to friends, and the feeling leaves as soon as it arrives, so he simply shoves in his pockets and replies, “Not exactly babysitting, but I was promised free lunch.” He grins and tries not to appear beside himself. Sure, he’s more comfortable now with Donghyuck, and most of the NCT members, but it doesn’t replace the nerves of being ambushed by a pretty boy in a confined space.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck nods and hums like a wise sage. “Ah yes, the lure of free food, I know it well. I’m on my way to see Mark, hopefully for a similar outcome.” </p><p> </p><p>Yangyang wishes him luck in his endeavours as the doors open, and the grin Donghyuck sends his way is enough to make him stumble over the threshold. Donghyuck doesn’t notice, already down the hall bowing at his seniors where the practice room door has seemingly just opened. Yangyang hangs back awkwardly, not yet possessing the confidence to casually greet the singers of the song he auditioned with (the thought alone still blows his mind sometimes), but Ten emerges soon after and pats Donghyuck on the back. Ten must spot him hanging back, because he awkwardly flaps his hands to call him over. Yangyang isn’t embarrassed per se, but it’s one thing for your gege/friend/colleague to call you ‘baby’ in private, it’s another to treat him like he is one in public. Xuxi pulls him into a sweaty hug just as Ten goes to reintroduce him.</p><p> </p><p>Surprisingly, Donghyuck beats him to it. “This is my WayV friend, Yangyang. You’ve already met Kai-hyung and Baekhyun-hyung, right?” Donghyuck turns to Yangyang, (un)fortunately missing the amused yet confused looks on the older boys’ faces.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, we’ve met, briefly. WayV’s infamous maknae! We’ve heard a lot,” Baekhyun says amicably in -- what Yangyang hopes is -- an attempt to salvage the dignity of the interaction. Yangyang bows and smiles along politely until they make their excuses and hurry off to their next schedule. </p><p> </p><p>The rest of the cluster move towards the lifts again and Yangyang pesters Ten about the offered free lunch. Apparently, it was all a Kun tactic to get Yangyang to bother the pair to eat in between practices, but Ten caves anyway and offers to order a bunch of food to the practice room using the manager’s phone. The lift reaches the practice room floor, but as they move to leave, Ten pulls a begrudging Mark into a hug. “Enjoy lunch, you two rascals!” he says in English, but it barely registers to Yangyang, who’s too busy returning Donghyuck’s sudden hug. </p><p> </p><p>“Enjoy your free food,” Donghyuck says into Yangyang’s ear, far too quiet in comparison to Ten, Xuxi and Mark’s farewells. Even after Yangyang steps backwards out of the lift (like a loser), he can still feel the words in his hair. Yangyang isn’t a monster walking around in human skin, so it isn’t even possible for him to resent Mark Lee, but his mind instead does entertain the thought of ditching Ten and his wallet in favour of pulling Donghyuck to a quiet cafe himself, stealing off each other’s plates and sharing earbuds. The thought is bright and nebulous enough for him to unravel each detail in the back of his mind whilst he slurps noodles, sitting on the practice room’s floor.</p><p> </p><p>They end up messaging more often, outside of the group chat Renjun had made. It’s as if their miniature interaction in the enclosed space of the lift was enough to initiate the momentum of a snowball of magnetism. The distance helps Yangyang remind himself that whilst Donghyuck is Haechan, he’s WayV’s Yangyang, and the shy teenager in Germany (who fumbled through his first kiss and ended it with a ‘thank you’) is no longer the entirety of his being. And so, he flirts back. He doesn’t mention it to Ten or Sicheng or the manager or anyone -- anyone other than Kun, but that was sort of by accident. They share a room, so naturally he’s going to be privy to what Yangyang does with his downtime, which now apparently mainly consists of pausing (and thus dying in) important video games to reply to a text with an unrestrainable grin and going for brief GongCha errands. It leads him irrevocably to this moment, staring blankly at the door of the 5th floor 127 dorms, <em> as per Donghyuck’s invitation. </em> How easy it is to be selfish and indulgent if you never have to see someone’s actual face, and thus how easily he accepted the request to <em> hang out </em> in <em> Donghyuck’s room </em>after a not so innocent conversation about comparing the strength of each other’s thighs. Before the manager had come to be his personal dick appointment Uber, he’d promised Kun he’d be back for dinner, mentioning the 127’s maknae name only once, and pretending not to notice Kun laughing behind his hand as he left the dorm.</p><p> </p><p>When Donghyuck opens the door, Yangyang tries not to put on his totally-not-nervous idol smile. He thinks briefly about investing in an acting class before the next comeback, because clearly Donghyuck sees right through it and greets him with an eye roll and a squeeze on the wrist. They pass Johnny on their way to their room, who unashamedly winks at them and their connected hands with the smuggest grin. Donghyuck dismissed the elder with a laugh, not without a reminder of assuring Yangyang that “Johnny-hyung is cool” and “knows the protocol” over text the night before. Yangyang tries not to think about the implications of that, because apparently this happens often enough for Donghyuck that it has a <em> protocol, </em>and instead lets himself be pulled into the dim bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck is apparently obsessed with soccer shorts whenever given the chance to dress himself, a fact which Yangyang does not wish to complain about but whine about instead. Because Lee Donghyuck’s legs have almost as much stage presence as the entirety of some of Yangyang’s performances. (And he’d know, by the embarrassing amount of Haechan fancams in his phone’s Youtube watch history, but that’s neither here nor there). </p><p> </p><p>“How was practice?” Donghyuck asks as he guides them to both sit on the bed nearest the door. He admittedly watched the younger’s 24/7 Vlog as soon as he’d invited him over, but in person it feels more infused with Donghyuck. Maybe it’s the scent of his deodorant that sits on the shelf above his bed. Either way, Yangyang folds his hands over his thighs, glancing around the room. </p><p> </p><p>“Good, I think…” He doesn’t want to bring up the way Kun has been egging him on to do more adventurous songs during vocal practices, because regardless of the thrill he gets whenever the vocal trainer compliments his improvement, it’s nothing to gloat about in the face of arguably one of the industry’s best vocalists. </p><p> </p><p>“Your live vocals are crazy strong for a rapper,” he says and bumps their shoulders together, as if reading his mind, which makes Yangyang want to fold over himself and burrow into the covers. </p><p> </p><p>Yangyang teases instead, “Watching my fancams, are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck hums, slides his hand to rest on the bed behind Yangyang’s back and flutters his lashes. His lips are full and rosy. “Gotta keep an eye out on the competition.”</p><p> </p><p>Yangyang fully snorts at that, shoving Donghyuck’s shoulder slightly too hard with nerves. Donghyuck reaches up to clutch Yangyang’s arm as he falls fully to the bed, bangs strewn around him like a golden halo. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Donghyuck says. The hem of his shirt inches up his stomach and it takes more cognitive effort than it should to not look at the sliver of golden soft skin that is revealed. Yangyang doesn’t want to ruin the delicate balance of power they’ve teetered on for so long, so he doesn’t comment or act on the way Donghyuck looks anything but resistible. </p><p> </p><p>“Competition for what? Most disrespectful maknae?” he asks instead, his voice successfully masking the thrum of his heart. It feels like he’s just come off the stage. Donghyuck’s arm, fingers pressing loosely into his bicep, acts as a livewire of tension. </p><p> </p><p>“Disrespectful?” Donghyuck’s tongue darts out to wet his lip and Yangyang’s eyes track the movement. He wants to rest his forefinger there, run the tip of it along the cushiony warmth. He’s leaning forward without noticing, Donghyuck’s soft hand climbing higher til it wraps loosely around his nape. Yangyang has never hesitated before, just done what he thinks he wants to, and he doesn’t stop now. Their noses bump together when he leans down and Donghyuck’s eyes glimmer before they flutter closed and kissing Donghyuck is both everything and nothing at all like he’d hoped. The pair of them are greedy, but Donghyuck, the born dancer he is, pulls and pushes with the grace of the tides. Yangyang’s hands hold himself over the other boy’s frame, and he pulls away for air as Donghyuck goes to deepen the kiss. When he pulls back, Donghyuck pouts, but it’s hard for Yangyang to reassure him that everything's okay when the air is stolen from his lungs. The boy is just short of frazzled, pupils blown wide and lips parted. </p><p> </p><p>Yangyang swears and mutters “<em>How is this even happening?</em>” in Mandarin. </p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck’s brows crease, “Was that too much?”</p><p> </p><p>Yangyang breaks from his reverie and shakes his head rapidly, blonde fringe flying over Donghyuck’s vision. He breaks his view long enough to pull his hoodie off and over his head, the static lifting his hair a parallel to the nerves in his lungs. He returns his attention, tugs at the boy’s side and rolls the pair of them over. Donghyuck lands in his lap with a gentle ‘oof’.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” he says, brain back to functioning and able to speak Korean. “It just feels too good to be true.”</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck’s forehead smooths again, and he ducks down to kiss the end of his sentence out of his mouth. They explore each other’s mouths like that, Yangyang’s head on Donghyuck’s pillow and Donghyuck atop him, until Donghyuck’s legs shift and suddenly there’s a lot more pressure on his crotch. It’s viscerally hot, enough to pull back and pant in the air between them, but Donghyuck doesn’t seem to need the same breather, as he delves lower to suck and kiss at his jaw and neck. Yangyang’s hands are still, respectfully, braced around his upper arms, but they itch to dip lower, to cradle his waist, to concede to the gentle rhythm Donghyuck sets with his wriggling torso. (He wouldn’t voice it, but it’s not hard to avoid the truth that Donghyuck’s arse could easily be considered the eight wonder of the world, so it’s not exactly unfair of him to want to hold it.) The deft fingers of Donghyuck’s right hand dip into the hollow of his collarbone through his shirt, but his left hand finds Yangyang’s own and pushes it lower. There’s a synygy between them in that action, reading each other silently, that makes Yangyang breathily shudder into the quiet air, hand kneading his hip. Donghyuck smiles into his neck, and the hunger of the moment fades into something more content; Yangyang’s other hand threads gently into his hair to pet him. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re very addicting, Liu Yangyang,” he says, lips to his chin, which is enough for Yangyang to tug at his hair and guide his mouth once again to his own. Their hips realign with the movement, and the guiding pressure of Yangyang’s broad palm causes a slow steady grind between their hips. A thrill zips through him at the weight of Donghyuck’s hardness against his hip, spurring him to grind upwards. It pulls a glorious wail from the vocalist, a honey dripping moan. If Yangyang was still foolishly holding onto his sanity at this point, that was enough to throw all caution to the wind. With desperate hands and mouths, their pace quickens, frotting against each other in a hurried dance. It’s almost easy to forget to breathe, like when he used to put so much energy towards aligning his facial expressions with the lyrics of a song that he would finish the song gasping. He sends a silent prayer of thanks to Xuxi and Dejun for their insane liking for fitness, and every time Hendery had dragged him to suffer alongside him on a long jog.</p><p> </p><p>Yangyang’s gut coils with building pleasure, Donghyuck’s hands abandoning their attentive ministrations in favour of bracing his own weight on Yangyang’s chest. Donghyuck’s stuttering hips are evidence of his closeness, which Yangyang responds to not only in desperation but also pride at being the cause of. </p><p> </p><p>“Gunna be,” Donghyuck pants, mouth open and nose aligned against Yangyang’s cheekbone, “messy.”</p><p> </p><p>Whilst the simple word sends vivid images through Yangyang’s mind, marked and sticky skin, he unfortunately understands the discomfort of a cum-in-shorts clean up. He paid decent money for these fancy sweatpants; his shirt, he supposes, has seen better days. Sacrifices for hot boys are just a part of his life now.</p><p> </p><p>“Here,” he says with whatever gusto is left in his throat, and pushes himself up to his elbows in order to free himself of his shirt. It makes the other laugh, coming to his aid to get the t-shirt over his head before pulling him in for another wet kiss. </p><p> </p><p>“How generous; thank you, baby,” Donghyuck hums, as if he isn’t absolutely equally as wrecked, and then returns quickly enough to the desperate drag of their crotches against each other, the shirt bundled in his hand. (Yangyang very easily concedes his previously stubborn anti-“baby” stance). </p><p> </p><p>He, with whatever strength left in his arms, lifts the boy just off his lap, enough to shimmy the waistband downwards. Donghyuck grins down at him and returns the favour with one hand as his knees perch him above Yangyang. Their dicks aren’t exactly fully out in the open but the both of their pants are low enough for Donghyuck’s next thrust to be almost too much, too warm and too close. Yangyang reaches between them to fit Donghyuck’s swaddled hand over where the pair of them touch, and despite the borderline irritating itch of the cotton, it pulls their dicks together in a cavern of friction and warm air that makes Yangyang all the more close. He looks up to see the crown of Donghyuck’s head, the other boy still captivated by the explicit sight of their intimacy. Yangyang doesn’t blame him. He almost wants to pinch himself, but instead drops a kind and all too tender kiss to his hair. Donghyuck looks up then, pleased and flushed smile almost perversely innocent given the sinful roll of his hips that follows. Their lips meet again, less of a kiss and more an exchange of hot damp breath, and before long Yangyang comes, and Donghyuck follows in tandem. They pause, Donghyuck’s hips stilling out of sensitivity and Yangyang’s handful of hair loosening out of slight mortification. <em> Well </em> , he thinks. <em> That happened </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck unfurls his back, thighs on heels and hips on Yangyang’s, sated. He puts aside the t-shirt, probably beyond saving, and unashamedly trails his flat open palms over the front of Yangyang’s naked shoulders. The sensation of wide, greedy hands and confident smiles reminds Yangyang very suddenly of the first time Donghyuck had ever touched him, how unaware he was of just how real some of his desires from that moment would become. Donghyuck maps him in a similar way, this time rid of clothes between skin and of invasions to their intimate reality of two. He slides his palms down his chest and ribs, less of a cautious navigator, now more of gloating victor. Yangyang scratches playfully at the boy’s scalp as the hands reach the dip of his pelvic hollow; and then, Donghyuck’s mirthful grin suddenly slides from his flushed face, and Yangyang, naturally, thinks the game is up. <em> Protocol </em> must be a codeword for <em> conquest, </em>and maybe Yangyang’s assumptions about the difference between Ten’s and Donghyuck’s use of the word “baby” weren’t true at all. His fingers slip out of the bleach-brittle strands and instead hover at the edges of his face, wanting to almost feel out the reasons for the abrupt change. Yangyang breathes two draws of his diaphragm, just watching before speaking, like Kun has reminded him to practice. On the third inhale, his fears of trickery dissolves into a better understanding of Donghyuck's slack mouth and intentful gaze -- he’s captivated. Albeit delayed, yet another flush climbs Yangyang’s torso, oppressive and fierce. On the fourth, he feels as though he is burning like a leaf in the hands of a curious child, Donghyuck both the magnifying glass and the sun itself. </p><p> </p><p>“You have a mole here,” Donghyuck says reverently, like a prayer, like Yangyang is a thing of worship. Yangyang feels his vocal chords catch tightly when he hums a weak acknowledgement. Donghyuck’s thumb swipes gently from the scoop of his pelvis to his navel, presumably over the freckle Yangyang vaguely knows is there. It makes his own fingers ache to brush over each dot that maps the boy’s cheekbones, neck, chest, <em> lower </em> . Donghyuck is so handsome, so <em> pretty, </em> that he loses track of his own hands. They fall to rest again against his hair and skin, cradling the boy. He still hasn’t looked away, but his voice is measured and calm, “It’s pretty. <em> You’re </em>pretty.”</p><p> </p><p>Yangyang knows he has jumped to conclusions before, but that certainly sounded like disbelief, and <em> yes, fine </em>, he now admits to being just one of many space rocks in the irresistible orbit of Lee Donghyuck, but Yangyang will still not let that slide. His job backs it up too; visuals aren’t exactly unexpected.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, I’m pretty.” He’s still confident, still brash, still <em> Yangyang, </em>maybe just a little more tinged with pink.</p><p> </p><p>It’s Donghyuck’s turn to tilt his head, tucking his body lower onto Yangyang’s thighs and hiding against his stomach. Yangyang gently tucks a stray curl behind his ear whilst he waits for him to explain. It tickles slightly when Donghyuck’s lips brush his abdomen to mumble, “I knew that well. I just mean, I get it now. I mean...”</p><p> </p><p>Yangyang laughs softly, and barely cringes at how fond it sounds resonated into the quiet room. “Have I really rendered <em> you </em>speechless? Hmm, wait until Doyoung-hyung hears about this.”</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck huffs a little laugh that, breath fanning across his navel and happy trail, which eases the nerves in Yangyang’s gut. “No, I just understand now, the thing everyone has about, you know,” and his hand lifts from Yangyang’s thigh to gesture vaguely to the left side of his own face, where Yangyang’s thumb has gravitated to grazing across each freckle that sits there. <em> Oh.  </em></p><p> </p><p>And Yangyang can’t help but think -- what a <em> privilege </em> , to prove the assertions of millions to a boy who should be able to believe it from just one alone. Such a privilege, a <em> joy </em> , that it bubbles out of him as a loud laugh, one that makes him pull at Donghyuck’s neck until they’re face to face once more. Donghyuck pouts, not in the teasing way, but in the way that he sometimes does when he’s embarrassed that he’s done something dumb, which Yangyang can’t help but laugh at more because he is holding all that is beautiful and bright between his two hands and they don’t even know it themselves. Yangyang darts out to kiss that gloriously stupid pout, fast and sure even though he isn’t, (like how he does everything he does), and then steals another for himself, and then kisses his temple three times and below his eye and under his jaw and twice on the colum of his throat, and does not stop. “ <em> Pretty, </em> pretty <em> , pretty, pretty,” </em>he says with his lips and with every way he knows how, in Mandarin and Korean and English and German, and does not stop until Donghyuck is resolved to joyful shrieks and hands that playfully slap at him to “stop, already”. He guides the subject of his affection back to look him level in the eyes, one last ‘pretty’ lain ready and waiting on his tongue, but Donghyuck kisses him before he gets the chance.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re so dumb,” Donghyuck says when he pulls back, lips shiny and red and invitingly pretty. Yangyang pecks them softly.</p><p> </p><p>“No, you’re dumb,” he says, no bite at all, before pulling the boy down atop himself and against his side. Donghyuck snuggles to his chest, palm flat over his tummy. “Here, I’ll give you a Korean lesson,” he begins, and Donghyuck is already snorting obnoxiously against his pectoral. “You said before that I’m ‘pretty’, which is different to ‘dumb’. It’s pronounced ‘pre-tty’.” </p><p> </p><p>Yangyang’s phone buzzes from the bed frame above their heads as they laugh at, and with, each other.</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>ten </em> </b> <b> <em>233</em> </b></p><p>care to explain why JOHNNY just texted me to inform me my baby is finally getting some?!!!1!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading! stan yanghyuck maknae power couple and stream bad alive eng ver xx</p></blockquote></div></div>
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